


talking with your fast hands, saving all your slow dances

by QLaLa



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (or is it), Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mayor Leonard Snart, Slow Dancing, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QLaLa/pseuds/QLaLa
Summary: Maybe it wasn’t what the press thought—what he was paying Barry tomakethe press think—but in that moment, it felt painfully real.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Comments: 48
Kudos: 236





	talking with your fast hands, saving all your slow dances

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by mx-jinxous's Mayor Leonard Snart/Barry Allen [moodboard](https://mx-jinxous.tumblr.com/post/617149016889868288/day-1-fake-relationship-it-was-one-job-one-easy) on tumblr. I didn't know I was a sucker for "fake-dating for re-election approval ratings" AUs, but here we are. 
> 
> Title comes from "Slow Dances" by Winnetka Bowling League.
> 
> And many thanks, as always, to my beta Elizabeth!

Across the bedroom, Barry tipped his head to regard his reflection with a critical eye. 

The suit was bespoke; Leonard had left Barry at his tailor’s two weeks earlier with his personal credit card and a threat of bodily harm if he left without spending at least five grand. The result was a little _young_ for a fundraising dinner, nipped in at the waist with narrow lapels and visible accent stitching along the seams, but there was no denying how perfectly it brought out the dangerous grace of Barry’s form. 

As Leonard watched, Barry slid his hands into the pockets of the charcoal trousers as he half-turned to study the fit, giving the mirror another glance over his shoulder. It should have ruined the lines of the suit, but there was something so _Barry_ about the gesture that it gave Leonard pause. 

Barry straightened his posture with a subtle roll of his shoulders, the thoughtful tilt of his head baring the long line of his throat and showing off the constellation of freckles there. His collar was unbuttoned, as ever. But for once, Leonard couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Barry finally noticed him in the reflection, but caught his gaze only for a moment before rolling his eyes and turning back to fuss with the shirt. 

“Don’t say it,” he said, already reaching up to slip the top button through the pressed material of his collar. He quirked an eyebrow that seemed to ask, _happy now?_

Leonard averted his gaze, and had to bite his nails against his palm behind his back to keep himself from telling Barry it had looked better before. 

“Just don’t lose your jacket this time.” 

* * *

By the time Leonard had shaken hands with everyone in the ballroom at the Central City Four Seasons, the band was winding down, servers had begun to circle with coffee, and Barry’s suit coat was hanging off the back of his empty chair. 

He found his so-called partner down to his shirtsleeves and suspenders on the dance floor, his collar undone, helping a blushing child to stand on his polished black shoes as he turned them in careful circles. 

Leonard wasn’t the only one watching. There were tweens and teenagers daring each other in hushed whispers to ask him for the next dance. Most of the single women in their twenties—most of the single women Barry’s age, Leonard corrected himself sharply—were eyeing him with far less innocent intentions. That he’d arrived on the Mayor’s arm didn't seem to be deterring them in the least. 

When the kid’s mother came to collect her from Barry, Leonard found himself on his feet to rescue him before the next suitor could swoop in. He brushed a hand down Barry’s arm and caught his hand.

Barry turned with polite attention before he saw him, and then his expression melted into a crooked smile. "Hi." 

“Fan club like this,” Leonard said, “starting to think you should be the one on the ballot.” He lifted Barry’s left hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Oh, absolutely.” Barry tried to pull a serious expression—Leonard suspected it was a mockery of his own—but couldn’t keep down the smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “My approval ratings are double yours.” 

Leonard rolled his eyes. The band began the next song, a waltz, and Leonard slipped his hand up into a proper hold on Barry’s. 

“No, Leonard, come on,” Barry protested. “I told you I can’t dance, don’t—” 

But he came easily when Leonard pulled him a step closer. He moved into Barry’s space until their chests brushed and he could wrap an arm around his waist, and Barry huffed against his shoulder. 

“I definitely can't follow. Len—”

The last gave way to a laugh as Leonard kicked the toe of Barry’s shoe to get him to move back a step, then moved smoothly into the place he'd vacated. 

“Funny, Iris never tried kicking me. Maybe that's why the dance lessons didn't take.”

“Said it before,” Leonard said. “You need a firm hand.”

Barry stepped on his toes for it, but Leonard felt him laugh. He traced a slow hand up Barry’s spine as he guided him in the next step, letting himself admire the lean muscles of his back. Barry shifted closer at his touch, bringing their chests together, and then hooked his chin over Leonard’s shoulder. This close, Leonard could catch the scent of his hair product, rich and spiced. 

Barry was warm and loose against him, utterly at ease in his arms, and Leonard felt a now-familiar wariness at the unthinking display of trust. It pulled at some long-neglected protective instincts, and made Leonard uncomfortably aware that he was trying to protect Barry from himself. He diverted the feeling and focused instead on the sleepy way Barry was swaying with him.

“You eat?” Leonard asked. 

Barry hummed a lazy affirmative that Leonard could feel in his chest. 

“Just tired,” Barry said. “We should head home soon?”

The questioning lift of his voice at the end of the sentence turned the request hopeful, and Leonard almost missed a step at the sound of _home_ on Barry’s lips. Barry had been staying in the guest room of his townhouse as part of their arrangement—easier to keep up appearances for the press, easier for Leonard to get Barry to campaign events on time—but Barry still had his own apartment on the other side of the city. Leonard didn’t know when, over the last four months, the townhouse had become “home.”

Leonard didn't push him on it though, only closed his eyes against the renewed uneasiness he felt and hummed a vague agreement. When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of another woman drifting over with obvious intention. Leonard gave her what he knew was a rather territorial look, and then turned his head to press a kiss to the side of Barry’s neck. 

Barry laughed and twisted ticklishly, breaking step and nearly treading on his toes again. 

“Leonard,” he said, barely mustering a chastising note. 

It felt painfully real, all at once. Maybe it wasn’t what the press thought—what he was paying Barry to make the press think—but the moment was real enough: Barry, relaxed against him as they swayed gently amid a few other couples; his skin, warm against Leonard’s lips; the faint blush spreading on his cheeks when Leonard kissed him again, a little higher this time. 

Leonard wanted to hear his name on Barry’s lips like that again, loose and happy, and he finally won it with a third kiss, this one just under Barry’s ear.

“Leonard,” Barry laughed. “Come on, she got the point the first time.”

Leonard let himself catch the shell of Barry’s ear between his teeth, just for a moment, and Barry’s laugh stuttered into something surprised and more than a little breathless. 

“They should know…” Leonard brushed his lips over Barry’s ear, only allowing himself the faintest touch. “...you’re dating a very jealous man.”

Barry didn’t quite manage a laugh, and his fingers tightened for an instant around Leonard’s. “I don’t think we ran that by the focus groups.” 

Leonard pulled him along to the music again. “My approval ratings can take the hit.” 

“No, they can’t.” 

Leonard gave a half shrug and hid a smirk. “If you think we’re not gonna be up six points in the morning,” he said, trailing an appreciative touch over Barry’s waist, “you haven’t passed a mirror tonight.” 

They had raised an obscene amount of money with the dinner, to be sure, but it wasn’t until Leonard saw the pleased blush spreading across the tops of Barry’s cheeks that the whole night finally felt worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the story, feel free to leave a little love in the comment box below! You can find me on tumblr at [ lesbianleonardsnart. ](https://lesbianleonardsnart.tumblr.com)


End file.
